Day One

Today I am starting a challenge for myself. Journaling is something that I’ve been wanting to make a habit for at least a decade. I’m also looking at wanting to not be as skittish around others like I currently am. In order to rectify both situations at the same time I am challenging myself to writing about my day here where every single one of you can see my posts for at least 365 days. Some of my posts might be formal while others are not. My writing style changes depending on my day. Hopefully I come across several amazing people that would like to take this year journey with me. Here’s to day one.

For the past few years I’ve been wanting to improve who I am. Due to being told that I am a monster, I began to believe it. But after searching for a way to fix how much of a monster I am, I’ve started questioning things. Am I really a monster? Do I really look as bad as what people think I do? Or is it that I absorbed the misery they had and am now just looking to become happy again?

Instead of continuing my search for ways to not be a monster, I quickly decided to begin searching for ways to become happier.

The first thing I noticed that comes up with every website I see about happiness is that they all say to let go of anger. I can definitely understand how letting go of anger can help me. I’ve been through enough to understand that anger is something that holds you back. I’m at the point of anger disgusts me and I would rather spend that minute that I’m angry on being happy instead.

I don’t even think the things that I’m angry at are even worth that minute of my time. I don’t think I’m really mad at things I’m mostly angry at certain people for certain things. The thing I do know about what I’m angry about is that I can’t do a single thing to change them. Which that statement alone leads me to question myself, why am I angry about them if I can’t change them? That’s a good point, I shouldn’t still be angry at them.

I’m angry with so many people from my birth dad to myself and every type of person surrounding us. I’m angry with my birth dad because he put me through chaos. He abandoned me when I was an infant, wasn’t a father figure at all, took all of the toys that he was “going to give to me” away from me on my first Christmas with him and he gave it to one of my half sisters, and he made sure that everyone he knew would hate me because of how poorly he painted me out when he doesn’t even know me. I’m angry with him because he made me question my worth and feel like I was nothing but a whore. I’m angry because everything he says about me is a lie. I’m angry because I am the best kid and he wants nothing to do with me. I’m angry because I should have had a better dad. But I can’t change who he is. I can’t change anything that he has made me feel. He didn’t want me, but I can’t change that.

I’m angry at my mom’s ex fiancé because he was abusive. I’m angry with him because he tried to get me out of the picture with my mom when I was only eight. I’m angry with him because he let me go hungry since I didn’t want to eat at a restaurant that made me throw up. I’m angry with him because he didn’t want me to live, because he didn’t want me to be loved, because I didn’t deserve to exist in his eyes. I’m angry with him because in his eyes I am everything wrong with this world. I’m angry with him because he is miserable and misery loves company. I can’t make him be happy. I can’t make him take back all of the horrible things he told me when I was a kid. But I can make sure I’m not miserable like him.

I’m angry with my grandma because she loved to remind you how fat you are. She loved to nitpick everything you did like she had some kind of control over you since you’re a minor. I’m angry with her because it helped me develop body dysmorphia. I’m angry with her because she didn’t vocalize what was paining her when she went to the hospital. I’m angry with her because when she died I had to pick up the pieces. I had to be the one to step up and help my mom. But I can’t change how she was or how she died. I can’t change anything with her because she is dead.

Then there’s my ex’s. Two out of three of them abused me. One caused me to gain four hundred pounds, which also increased my body dysmorphia. One wanted me to not be there for me. But both of these ex’s degraded me and loved to hit me and make me feel utterly worthless. Nothing can save either of them, but no matter how much I dislike them, I wish them the best. Their future is not mine and I may not be able to change how they saw me, but I can change how I see me. Not everyone sees me as an absolute monster. The third ex, I just want him out of my life. I’m angry that he can’t leave me alone, that he acts like my mom is somehow related to him. I’m angry that I can’t live my life without him following me in everything I do. It’s been ten years since we dated and I’m ready to live our own separate lives. I’m angry because no matter what I do to try and make it ok, he’s right there make sure I know how annoying and how monstrous I am. The only way I know how to change it is to move away and hope he doesn’t follow me.

I’m angry at a lot of people because they judge me, call me fat, tell me I’m going to hell for being different, intrude on my personal space and aura, and just being inconsiderate. I am an introvert and I do not like people being in my safe zones when I don’t accept it. I can’t change that about myself nor can I change personal traits of others. I am human, I’m not perfectly shaped, I’m not perfect period, and I am completely different from a lot of things.

Out of all of those people that I listed for me personally being angry at, you might think my list was done, but there’s one more on the list. I’m angry with myself, because I can’t figure out how to be happy. Because I let my fear of others get inside my head to the point of misery. Because I didn’t stop this sooner. Because I know I can do better. Because I’m worth so much more than what I’ve been told thus far. Because I have proof I’m not a monster.

Am I still a monster? Or have I just been influenced by others to think I’m a monster?